


Waves

by Lythlyra



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-23
Updated: 2011-10-23
Packaged: 2017-10-24 21:22:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/268033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lythlyra/pseuds/Lythlyra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anders feels it from the draw of their breaths and the push of their hips, and he doesn't think that he's ever been this aware of every inch of himself. (Fenris/Anders slash)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waves

**Author's Note:**

> Neon drew [this](http://flyingneonfish.tumblr.com/post/11808614851) lovely thing for me, and this was the inevitable result. Seriously, that drawing blows my mind.
> 
> This ficlet contains sexual content and is NSFW.

They're a wave, a continuous movement that crests and falls in time.

  
 _A beat, a rhythm, a dance_.

Anders feels it from the draw of their breaths and the push of their hips, and he doesn't think that he's ever been this aware of every inch of himself.

 _Heady, erratic, straining, fanning over his hair, his skin, marking him as surely as any touch. Fenris rocks them forward with power and abandon, again and again and again_.

He is slick and overly warm and weighed down, and his hands fumble for a hold on something, anything, only to twist the rumpled sheets beneath his fingers.

 _Fenris is lanky, light, but he is strong, quick, clever, steadfast, even in this. There is a hand clasping at Anders' own, entwining and winding, and Fenris buries his face into his fallen hair, nestles his nose just behind the shell of his ear and moans, raspy and rumbling and perfect_.

Madness descends slowly, spins its own inescapable web, but it's done when he's lifted and moved; there are fingers doing something delightfully wicked, determined and paced and promising.

 _The angle of their hips is changed, the way they join and writhe jagged and its finesse dwindling, and he can't pinpoint the exact moment in which it's too good, too much, but it is_.

It's over with a shudder, a moan, a brush of lips over his shoulders and the back of his neck.

 _He hears murmured swears in Arcanum, raw and visceral, and they're still ringing in his ears long after they're spoken, long after their bodies disentangle_.

Lifting himself and turning feels like an effort in a way it never has before, but it's worth the way Fenris seeks him out, fitting against the shape of his side, a thoughtful hum in his throat as he settles.

 _He wants to say something, but it's better how it already is, with bodies and slow, easy breathing. With rings and warm, familiar fingers that fit easily through his own_.

So he says nothing but feels everything, aware and wondering.

 _They're still a wave, even when the waters are calmed_.


End file.
